


Changeling

by xylodemon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, Future Fic, M/M, Polyjuice Potion, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-11
Updated: 2005-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-29 09:44:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/318542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't replace what you've lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changeling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Polyjuice Brothel](http://www.livejournal.com/users/florahart/225855.html) challenge on LiveJournal.

It's a small place, the kind of place a person can only find if they know what they are looking for.

Hermione walks past it three times before she notices it. It's wood and siding like every other warehouse on the street, and Hermione doesn't so much see it as feel the magic hiding it from Muggle eyes.

She pauses in front of the door, pulling a flask from her purse, and she drops a hair inside, stolen during her shift at the Janus Thickey Ward. She gags at the taste and concentrates on keeping it down, reminding herself that after the nausea has passed she gets to be someone else, even if only for a little while.

Her body shifts and twists, chest flattening slightly, hips widening the tiniest bit. Her head feels lighter, freer, released from weight of usual hair.

It's stuffy inside, hot, and scarves draped over the lamps make the walls bleed. It smells of unwashed bodies and stale liquor, and smoke hangs in the air, too cloying and sweet to be tobacco, and so strong it makes her eyes water.

The man who greets her is as tall as Hagrid, but he's not quite as large and his smile is nowhere near as comforting. His voice rumbles, like rocks rolling down a mountain, and she listens carefully as he names the price.

For one Galleon, she gets who is available. For two, she gets who she wants.

The door has a small hole drilled through it, so Hermione can see what she's paid for before she goes inside. One glance and Hermione shakes her head, pressing another Galleon into his palm.

She looks again after he leaves, and she finds that she is not surprised. Things have changed since the war ended, and not for the better. There has been four Ministers of Magic in as many years, and the newest one replaced all the Aurors with his own recruits, claiming he didn't feel safe under their guard since they'd failed to keep the last Minister alive.

When the man returns she hands him a hair, stolen from a very different place, and he slips into the room. Hermione hears choking, coughing, then the door swings open, and the man gestures her inside.

Her purchase gasps, his mouth falling open and his eyes widening in shock, and Hermione realizes what he sees. Tonks _not_ Seamus is looking at _Cho_ not _Hermione_ , remembering the Cho before the Janus Thickey Ward, the Cho who was blown off her broom in the second battle of Dovetown.

"What should I call you?"

And it's the voice that breaks her, not the familiar _eyes face hair_ , but the voice, the Irish lilt she'd so loved and thought she'd never hear again.

She shakes her head, because she knows if he says her name it will kill her.

The kisses are wrong, clumsy and quick instead of slow and sweet, and his lips don't move across her jaw to her neck, sucking and licking like they are supposed to. The touches are wrong, hands cupping her face instead of snagging her hair, fingers moving to her nipples straight away instead of teasing around and around until she begs and pleads.

She doesn't care, because it's him. She doesn't says she loves him, because it's not.

The features flicker slightly when he slides inside her, the polyjuice fighting with the innate talents of the body underneath. Hermione closes her eyes, pretends she doesn't see, and when she opens them, Tonks is Seamus again.

Hermione arches off the bed, rocking her hips to met his thrust, her body responding even though her mind refuses to comply. It's a strange thing, to feel so empty while being so full, to feel so lonely while having someone for the first time since he died. Her orgasm is mechanical, perfunctory, a reaction caused by the cock driving in and out of her and the thumb swirling over her clit, a reaction her mind hardly acknowledges.

The features flicker again when he comes, the loss of control causing a loss of _control_ , and Hermione forces herself to watch this time, makes herself accept that he is not coming back.

She says thank you, because she should, but she doesn't say goodnight, because it's not.


End file.
